


Nothing But Heaven Itself

by Tabithian



Series: Golden Thread [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU - Comicverse, Nightwing (Comics), Red Robin (Comics), Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-29
Updated: 2013-03-29
Packaged: 2017-12-06 20:24:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/739784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tabithian/pseuds/Tabithian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gotham is, strangely, a favorite of Jack's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing But Heaven Itself

Gotham is, strangely, a favorite of Jack's. 

Normally it isn't somewhere he would linger. Not with its tall foreboding buildings and people who do their best not to make eye contact with one another, scurrying from place to place as quickly as they can. Not always unfriendly, although there are those who are, just. 

Busy. (Worried, afraid.)

For all that Gotham's such a dark city, so full of fear and shadows and all the things that follow, its people have such bright dreams.

Jack usually tries to stay out of the way of the Guardians when he's not trying to break into North's workshop or rile Bunny up. Sandman's a little different, though. Jack never quite introduces himself, but he knows Sandman's seen him, weaving around and through the brilliant streams of light, delighted laughter spilling from his lips when little golden snowflakes break away, catching on his clothes, his hair.

It's the dreams of Gotham's people that have him coming back again and again at first, and then it's her people themselves that do.

He blows through in the cold months, something about the city bringing him back time and again. And he watches, the people with their heads down as they walk the city sidewalks, and the ones who _don't_.

Like the one all in black with a bat on his chest – and the brightly colored kid at his side. 

Jack catches him with snow once, to see what would happen. (Dark and grim and oh so serious, of course Jack had to know, to see.)

It was the kid, of course, who reacted best. Smothered grin and muffled laugh and a quick scamper to get away when the older one lunged for him, growling - _playful_. (Handful of snow in one dark glove hidden by the fall of his cape.)

“Try and catch me!”

A smaller handful of snow, perfectly aimed to hit the bat emblem before the kid vaulted over the edge of the roof, laughter trailing behind him.

Another growl – Batman, Jack later learned, out with his Robin – pausing a moment to look back to where Jack was still perched on a spot recently cleared of snow.

Jack had gone still then, perfectly motionless, thinking that maybe once, for a moment - 

_Maybe_.

But then Batman snorts, turning to give chase, cape sweeping behind him.

********

Another year, another winter and Jack's back in Gotham.

Whoops and yells as Wind tosses him up - air rushing past – and catches him again, light, playful. He dashes around the skyscrapers, glass frosting over where he presses off against it with the crook of his staff. 

Movement at the corner of his eye snags his attention, and he drops lower, catches the lip of a roof and flips up to land on the edge to watch a small figure climbing up the fire escape of a building. 

“What's this?” he says to himself, intrigued.

The boy moves carefully, staying in the shadows as he reaches the roof. Looks around to make sure no one's around and makes his way towards a corner of the roof.

Jack follows, because this is Gotham and the only people he's seen out at night like this are usually wearing strange and fantastic costumes. This boy isn't. A dark knit cap to keep his head warm and a heavy jacket and gloves. 

“Come on, come on,” the kid says to himself, hidden from view.

“Kid,” Jack says, leaning over his shoulder, “what are you doing?”

He doesn't get a response - not that he was expecting one – but the kid shivers, pulls the collar of his coat higher to ward off the chill.

Jack grimaces at that. Even if the kid can't see him, he's _Jack Frost_. Snow and ice and cold. 

“Sorry,” he says, backing away to a safe enough distance. 

The kid raises his head and looks around and for a moment – just a moment – Jack _wonders_.

There's a frown on the kid's face, contemplative, and then he shakes his head. 

“Stupid, Tim, stupid,” he says. “There's nothing there.”

Jack smiles, wan. (Nothing and no one, just Jack.)

“Tim, huh?” he asks, Wind lifting him and swinging him up and around to face Tim. 

Younger than Jack had thought at first, pale skin and dark hair and a serious expression. (Far too serious for someone so young.)

“Nice to meet you Tim,” Jack says, with a bow. “I'm Jack.”

Tim doesn't respond, but for a moment Jack thinks he will.

*******

It must be curiosity or something very much like it that has Jack staying around Gotham longer than he usually would. (Loneliness.)

Batman and Robin are always busy, running around fighting crime and saving lives and it's a rare moment when Jack can get them to play. (This is a different Robin, and it's harder to get through to him than the first one.)

Tim, though.

He's. 

Interesting.

Jack trails along after him most nights, content to sit close by and listen to him talk to the strays that tend to seek him out. 

One night spent following Tim around Jack can't help it, sees the way Tim holds himself small and harmless, no stories for the battle-scarred stray he shares his food with. The brittleness in the air spurs him into action. Wind, constant ally and sometime partner in crime lends help, little curls of cold air winding around Tim, plucking at his clothes, his hair.

Tim doesn't notice at first, tries to shake it off, but the second, time he stops. Turns to see the cause.

Jack knows better, but some little part of him still wonders. ( _Maybe_.) 

Tim scowls, tugging his hat down on his head and sets off again, muttering to himself. 

“Oh come on!” Jack calls after him.

Wind swirls around him like laughter, amused and questioning and Jack nods, points at Tim with a scowl of his own. 

Tim hunches his shoulders but continues on, undaunted and Jack.

“Oh yeah?” he says, ignoring Wind playing with his hair. “We'll see about that.”

The snowball he throws at Tim is perfect, breaks apart on impact across Tim's shoulder. Jack smirks to himself when it pushes Tim off-balance, just that little bit. 

“Bet you can't ignore that, now can you?”

Tim whirls around, hand coming up to catch the snow on his coat before it hits the ground, eyes widening slightly. He casts around for an explanation, gaze landing on the stray.

“Did you do that?” Tim asks, making a face at himself because he knows how ridiculous he has to look.

The cat looks at him like it's agreeing, and Jack.

Jack can't hold in his laugh at the expression on Tim's face, the way the line of his shoulder softens, rueful smile playing on his lips.

“Yeah, I didn't think so,” Tim sighs. 

He shadows Tim when he heads back to his home earlier than usual, stopping to look over his shoulder like he knows he's not alone. 

********

Jack's older than he ever expected to be, centuries behind him, who knows how many left to go, but there are still things he doesn't expect to see. (Gotham loves to surprise him, though, it seems.)

He goes to the roof from the night with the snowball Tim couldn't handwave away, and. It's not brooding, really. (Jack's had occasion to witness brooding up close and personal with Batman, he knows the difference.)

It's just. 

There are nights when Jack realizes how sad a place the world can be. He gets so lost in thought he doesn't notice when the frost and ice form, or when the snow gathers.

It isn't until the sound of footsteps behind him and a sharply indrawn breath reaches him that Jack realizes he's not alone.

Tim, staring at the place Jack was just sitting, eyes narrowed in thought.

Smiles faintly when Tim looks at the stray watching him and asks, “You?”

And then there are the nights when Jack remembers how wonderful the world can be, how incredible the people in it are, even though they don't recognize that.

Jack doesn't even need to ask Wind to knock Tim's hat off for him at that garners a small smile from Tim, soft and unguarded.

********

After that night Tim talks more. Not just to the strays that gather around him, but Jack can see how it would seem that way if anyone were to see Tim like this.

Tim talks to – at? - him like they're friends. About the kids at school who are his friends even if Tim's hesitant to call them such, insecurities and doubts picking away at him. Tim talks about school and his family life, about the reason why he's out night after night following his heroes. He talks about his parents, his family, who travel the world leaving him at home. 

“I got a letter,” Tim says, self-conscious as though he expects someone to see them. “From my parents. They're on another trip.”

Jack smiles tightly and settles in to listen. He hates that Tim lights up from something so small, but there's nothing he can do to tell Tim he should get more than this, that he deserves more.

“They're going to come home soon,” Tim says, an edge to his voice that says he's not sure if that's a good thing, and Jack.

Wind is with him on this, carrying a scattering of snowflakes into Tim's face, making his sputter and laugh and the ache Jack always seems to carry with him eases just the tiniest bit at the sound of it.

********

Tim tells jokes, sometimes.

Terrible ones that get him a burst of cold air in his face because even Wind can't stand them. The times when Tim feels small and useless, like a burden, weight of his perceived faults and flaws weighing on him the only thing Jack can do is knock some snow loose from a roof overhang, and hopefully some sense into Tim at the same time. (He's never sure how effective that is, but the little huff of a laugh Tim gives afterward makes him think it works a little.)

Jack screams in frustration the times when Tim quietly and matter-of-factly lays out his future step-by-step because it's what he thinks is what's expected of him. (What his parents would want him to do.)

“Listen to yourself, Tim!” Jack yells, arms outflung. “You're a kid! Do kid things!”

Tim can't hear him as he goes on about classes he should take, how extracurricular activities would look good on his records. 

“Just remember, you asked for it,” Jack mutters, winding up to throw a snowball at Tim. “This is for your own good.”

********

Jack enlists Wind's help to keep Tim safe in the only ways they can.

Herding Tim to better – safer – places to watch for Batman and Robin. Away from the watchful eyes of Gotham's more unsavory people who take notice of one mall boy wandering around the city at night.

Freezing the ground so they slip and fall, harsh winter winds buffeting them until they head for shelter.

And then there are the times when Jack stumbles across situations where _he_ needs help.

“Hey there,” he says, crouched in front of the small pet carrier. 

The cat watches him with dull eyes, and Jack's hand clench around the body of his staff. He can break the lock on the carrier easily enough, but that will do the cat little good if it survives being so close to such extreme temperatures with the state it's in.

Wind tugs at his hair, twirls around him.

“You think?” Jack asks, hope flaring.

An answering gust that pulls the hood of his hoodie over his head, and Jack's laughing, letting Wind carry him to wherever Tim's gotten himself to that night.

********

Jack has taken to visiting Gotham even during the warmer months.

He knows something's different when he goes looking for Tim and can't find him on any of his usual rooftops. 

Worry hits him, sharp and biting as any winter wind and he searches all of Gotham until - 

“Oh, Tim,” he says, filled with conflicting emotions because _Tim_ and _Gotham_.

Tim in a borrowed Robin suit and Jack knows nothing will be the same after this moment.

“Oh, Tim.”

********

Wind takes Jack wherever he wants – needs to go – if he asks nicely enough. 

To Burgess or Gotham or Paris, and Jack always asks nicely enough.

He watches over Tim while he trains, offering help when he can. Tim may not be able to see him, but he helped push away the loneliness Jack's felt for decades more than most.

Jack draws a little robin in frost on Tim's bedroom window the day Tim returns to Gotham from his training. He's drawn pictures for Tim before, Christmas trees and birthday cakes. Little things to make him smile, chase away Tim's own loneliness in the ways he could. (Snow and ice and cold.)

Jack knows it may be the last one for a while, and leaves before Tim wakes up. Before Jack can see the expression on Tim's face when he sees it.

********

Jack still visits Gotham after Tim becomes Robin, still seeks Tim out at night. 

More often than not he's with Batman, but to Jack's surprise and delight one night he finds Tim with the first Robin, grown up now and more serious than he used to be. (An impish grin smothered by a green-gloved hand and muffled laughter and _Try and catch me!_ )

Jack feels a sense of relief when he sees how Tim is with him, tentative smiles and quiet laughter. It makes Jack decide it's never too late for a little snow between friends, no matter what the kangaroo thinks.

“Oh, come on,” Nightwing mutters, tipping his head back to look at the snow.“Tell me it's not Freeze.”

Jack scowls, perched on the railing next to Tim. Freeze is an _amateur_. 

“It's not,” Tim says, as though he knows how much comparisons to Freeze annoy Jack. ”Freeze is in Arkham.”

“That's what we always say,” Nightwing says.

Jack rolls his eyes, and Wind, ever helpful, pushes Nightwing over the edge of the roof.

Jack leans over to see him shoot off one of the lines they use to travel across Gotham's rooftops, a wide grin on his face as he lets out a whoop.

Beside him Tim sighs, small smile on his face when Nightwing issues a challenge he can't refuse.

“Come on, boy wonder!”

Jack goes still when Tim murmurs a soft, “Thanks,” before he follows Nightwing. 

“You're welcome,” Jack says, Wind stealing his words away.

********

Jack never forgets how dangerous the world – Gotham – can be.

“Oh, come on, Tim,” he says, Wind swiping one of the muggers up against a wall as Jack twists and slides, crook of his staff freezing the ground in the path of another. “You know better than this.”

Jack's been keeping an eye on Tim the past few nights, drawing little pictures in frost on his window to keep him entertained while he was sick, even though he knows Batman has to know about those by now. 

To be fair, Tim was doing well enough, until the muggers' friends showed up.

Jack and Wind are just evening the odds, buying Tim time until Batman and Batgirl arrive. (Doing the little things they can to help.)

Jack retreats to a fire escape when Tim's backup arrives, cutting through the muggers still standing with brutal efficiency. He ducks deeper into the shadows when Batgirl's head swivels in his direction. Goes still and hopes the shadows are dark enough to hide him from sight even though he knows she can't possibly see him.

Jack frowns when Batman kneels beside a small pile of snow, scooping some of it into a small container. Batman scowls at Tim when he sees him watching, and gives an order at Batgirl to continue on patrol as he straightens up. 

She nods, pausing to rest a hand on Tim’s shoulder, and then it's the three of them alone in the alley with the unconscious muggers.

Jack winces at the coldness in Batman's voice as he tells Tim to meet him on the roof, but Tim.

There's a faint smile on his face, along with resignation.

“Thanks,” he says.

Wind brushes against Tim's face as he shoots off a line to join Batman.

********

The...situation with the Guardians and Pitch and Burgess keep Jack out of Gotham for a while, longer than he'd like, really.

He's a little surprised when Bunny tracks him down a few days later, arms crossed and a suspicious look on his face even though they’ve mostly made amends. (Mostly.)

“Can I ask you for a favor?” Jack asks, watching Tim crouched low on a rooftop.

He's not alone, Batmand and Nightwing are next to him, the newest Robin a little ways off.

“What kind of favor?” Bunny asks, always so suspicious. (As if Jack was the untrustworthy type.)

Jack grins, and lets Wind pick him up so that it's not so much of a stretch when he throws an arm around Bunny's shoulder. 

“Trust me, you're going to love it.”

********

Bunny grumbles about it, of course. Wondering aloud why Jack needs a special set of eggs, why _his_ aren't enough, but he lets Jack into the warren to paint them readily enough.

Baby Tooth helps, smaller hands able to do the fine work that even Bunny can't manage. Jack isn't as surprised as he thought he would be when the two of them insist on coming along when Jack leaves the basket on Tim's windowsill.

“Mate of yours?” Bunny asks, watching Jack as he draws a robin in frost on Tim's window. (Jamie's told him about the Easter egg and bunny Jack drew, breathed a little life into for a brief moment.)

“You could say that,” Jack says, smiling at Baby Tooth.

She's fluttering over the eggs, fretting over a loose feather that's become trapped between two of them. 

“Baby Tooth, it's fine,” Jack says, holding out a hand for her to alight on. “Trust me, he'll appreciate it.”

She gives him an uncertain look, but.

“Promise,” Jack says.

After a moment Baby Tooth nods to herself, zipping up to press a light kiss on Jack's cheek before ducking into the hood of his hoodie with an embarrassed noise.

“Do I even want to know?” Bunny asks.

Jack looks over at Tim, deep asleep after Sandy's earlier visit.

The two of them aren't alone the way they used to be, newfound family and friends filling the void in their lives they couldn't quite for each another.

“I'll tell you about it sometime,” Jack says.

He grins at the look Bunny gives him and holds his arms out as he leans back, Wind rising up to catch him like every time before, and carries him away home, Baby Tooth's holding on tight to his hoodie and Bunny racing after them in his tunnels.


End file.
